Pine Trees and Gold Coins
by Anjupear
Summary: Dipper Pines is having a perfectly ordinary year at school, and it's driving him crazy. When he sees a mysterious haze outside his window one night, he grabs onto the chance to have one more adventure. Except this time, he may have bitten off more than he can chew.
1. Prologue

_December 3, 2012_

_Piedmont continues to provide no new creatures to investigate. I finally got around to searching behind the old dumpster at school, but the shadows turned out to be just ants, not the spider-person larvae I had been expecting. Then some kids saw me, and they started saying I was looking for my lunch and laughing. But Mabel set them straight._

_I believe this town may be too close to Gravity falls to contain any natural anomalies; the place's Natural Law of Weirdness Magnetism must have pulled anything of interest out of here. I guess I'll just have to wait to go back._

_Man, I miss that place. I wonder what Wendy and Soos are up to. Probably having a ton of fun. And Stan and Ford are having tons of adventures up in the Arctic! We call them every night, and they tell us about all the cool creatures they've seen._

_It's kinda sad I have to leave them. But if I was with them, I wouldn't be with the coolest twin in the world. I'm not really super popular; pretty sure most of the kids at school think I'm insane for believing in ghosts and stuff; but Mabel's stuck by me. Keeps saying I'm a thousand times the worth of everyone who teases me. She hasn't made many friends of her own yet, which is kind of unusual for her. I think it might be my fault._

_I hope she doesn't mind._

"DIPPER! Are you done writing in your nerd book yet?"

Dipper Pines closed the journal he was writing in and rubbed the pine tree embossed on the cover. Its blue paint was beginning to wear down a little, but he didn't mind. It reminded him more of Journal 3.

"Just about!" He called down the stairs.

"Good, 'cause my algebra homework is starting to look like the stuff Grunkle Ford writes, and I need your help!"

"Coming!"

He ran down the stairs, jumping over the final step, and looked towards Mabel's usual homework spot on the couch. She was staring at a piece of paper and looking slightly stoned, either from the complexity of the problems or from an overdose of chocolate bars. Or both.

"Seriously, I swear you'd need to have a cryptology degree for this," she said as Dipper collapsed onto the cushion next to her. She looked up at the slight puff of air and grinned. "Or just be a massive dork like you!"

The boy laughed. "Hey, just because I pay attention in class-" but his breath left him in a rush as Mabel collapsed against his side in a cotton-covered boneless pile.

"Help me with my homework, dork!" She mock-commanded him with a flourish of the paper.

"I can't, you're squishing me!" He laughed, struggling to free his limbs until Mabel moved back upright.

"Fine, fine," she laughed as he took a look at the first problem. He had that _look,_ familiar as it was comforting, of pure concentration, a piercing gaze upon the paper. It occurred to Mabel that she had almost lost that look a summer ago.

"Man, I don't know what I'd do without you, Dipper," Mabel sighed as she slumped against his side again, softer than the first time.

The boy glanced at his sister, perfectly at ease.

_Me neither._

* * *

It was dark, crushingly dark. There was a silence around, the kind that presses on your eardrums, squeezes them until you want to scream.

Bill did not scream. Even though he was in agony, the strange phantom pain of finding huge swaths of yourself, your power, stripped away, he stayed silent. He was used to pain of some sort or other by this time.

Something was moving in the distance. He could feel his limited mindspace grow even more cramped as it grew closer, closer, until he could see it.

Oh great. Him.

"Save your calls for help in the future. I cannot revive what is not dead, after all," said the Axolotl. Or something like that. Words were strange here.

"Oh, pardon _me_." Bill would have rolled his eye if he could have mustered up anything resembling a proper form. "It's not like I thought Mackerel was making it outta that one anyway. Don't suppose you could lend a hand? Or fin, or whatever?"

If he didn't know better, Bill would have sworn the ripples he felt in the mindspace were laughs. "You push your luck, Cipher."

Bastard.

"Great. Fantastic. Well, if you're not gonna help, you can leave. Not like you've been very useful up to this point anyway."

The Axolotl, Great Lord of the Multiverse, nodded silently and disappeared. Bill was glad to see the back of him. It was cramped enough in here without frilly pompous behinds taking up space.

At least it wasn't a total loss. Cramped and hellish though it was, his prison came with options. Maybe even a hope of escaping.

Bill Cipher was a wreck. He had no mouth, no form, not a thing that could convey his emotions. But he thought he was pulling off a smile quite well.


	2. Chapter 1

The surface was beautiful at night. The moon was waxing high above, bathing the surface of the earth in cool light. The air, although laced with pollutants, was still sweet and crisp. On any other night, Holly would have been quietly enjoying all of it while speeding high above another glittering city.

Tonight, however, she was a bit preoccupied.

"Foaly, if this is some kid playing a video game, I swear I am going to wring your neck when I get back," she growled into her helmet mic.

He had come to her yesterday with a report from Sentinel, a program that eavesdropped on human communication lines for talk that could expose the People. According to him, the program had flagged 618 Oakland Avenue, Piedmont, California almost daily since September. This may sound bad, but Foaly's system was so paranoid anyone with a passing interest in sci-fi could set off an alert unknowingly. Frankly, Holly was tired of it.

"Holly, I know Sentinel can be a bit… touchy," Foaly admitted over the mike. "But even you have to admit this amount of red flags is strange. It can't hurt to be careful, right?"

"I'm calling it now. Some Mud Kid with a new game had been talking to his friend every night," Holly said, ignoring the centaur's comment. "Have you listened to the calls? Is there anything actually related to the People in them?"

"Bits and pieces. Some of them mentioned gnomes."

"Gnomes. That's it?" She was growing more and more impatient with him the longer this call went on.

"That's not the only weird thing though," Foaly went on, rushing to explain himself. "The calls don't sound like they're talking about a game. It sounds like they think everything they talk about is real."

Holly was unconvinced.

"Plus, I tried to pinpoint where the other side of the conversation was located. _I couldn't._"

That piqued her interest. Foaly's computer skills were the best underground. He could triangulate the location of any piece of fairy tech at the drop of a hat; Mud tech, he could do in his sleep. If he couldn't find something, it wasn't able to be found.

"The best I could get was in the arctic north, somewhere off the coast of Svalbard. But no further."

The arctic north? These kids had some awfully strange pen pals. Maybe Foaly was onto something after all. Not that Holly would ever say that to his face.

The tracker on her helmet display blinked. "Looks like I'm almost there. Guess we'll find out soon," the elf said with a sigh.

She flew down to the house, led by the target on her display. The house itself was completely, painfully ordinary, barely discernible from the two next to it in the moonlight. She could see through a window that one of the lights inside was still lit, despite the late hour. Holly flew up to it, careful to make sure she was still shielded. Inside were two kids clustered around a phone, talking animatedly. They didn't look like they were conspiring to reveal the existence of her people.

"It's just kids," she said, quietly a bit relieved. "Maybe they're just talking about a game after all."

"Maybe," Foaly mumbled. He didn't sound convinced. "Hold on, let me pull up their phone line." There was a small whine, and the kids' conversation came through her headset.

Inside, Dipper and Mabel Pines were engaged in heated conversation.

"I'm just saying, if you have the chance to go after a giant squid, why not? That would be amazing!" Argued the girl.

"You tell him, Mabel! I've been trying to get this nerd to go after the thing for days," Grunkle Stan responded.

The sigh that rushed over the speaker sounded like unusually exasperated static. "There's more to it than that, you two. The hull isn't thick enough to withstand a blow from its beak, and there are a few other problems that need to be sorted…"

Dipper let Grunkle Ford trail on. Normally he would be hanging on to every word, but he had noticed something strange. Barely even noticeable to anyone else, but there.

"Mabel?" He whispered, away from the receiver just in case. "It's December."

"Yeah."

"It's cold outside."

"...Yeah. Dipper, are you okay?" She responded with a questioning look.

"So why is there a heat haze outside our window?" He gestured with a subtle nod, careful to look away from it, to act normal.

Mabel's eyes widened as she saw what he did. "Oh my gosh. Dipper, do you think there's something there?"

He did. He was starting to get a bit jittery with excitement. There was nothing, not one thing in Piedmont worth investigating, and he wasn't willing to pass up the smallest chance of studying a new creature. Especially one with invisibility. That was so cool!

But he couldn't scare it off. He had one chance.

Dipper laced his fingers together, concentrating. "Okay, we need a plan. I don't think we can get outside fast enough to catch it, so we'll need to be stealthy. Maybe we can go out the back way, it's longer but it might buy us more time-"

"I have a better idea," Mabel whispered. "Let's just let it in!"

Before Dipper could stop her, she pranced across the room and threw open the window.

"Whew, it's hot in here!" She pronounced with a smile.

Dipper couldn't speak for a few seconds. Finally, he found his voice.

"Mabel, don't be stupid," he spoke with quiet urgency. "You could let in... bugs."

"Don't be silly, Dipper! Even bugs need a place to sleep. Everyone's welcome here!" Mabel smiled, sure of herself and her plan.

Outside, Holly's budding optimism had shriveled and died. These kids had given her an entrance and an invitation without a second thought. There was no way that was an accident. Her instincts screamed this was a trap, but… the kids looked so innocent. Could they really be tricking her?

"Foaly, do I go in?" She quietly asked, suddenly afraid of being heard.

The centaur let out a breath. It hissed over the mic. "I'm not sure, honestly. From the outside, this seems like a setup, but I can't see any bugs or booby traps. It seems like just the two kids in there."

He mulled it over a second longer. "It would be good if we could take them in for questioning, though. This is a bit too much to be a coincidence."

"Got it," Holly said. She crept over the windowsill, silently pulling out her buzz baton, hovering softly to not cause any drafts. The kids were back to their conversation, but she could see the boy sneaking glances at her from time to time. He knew she was there, for sure. How was a kid that observant of a haze in the air? Could he see her somehow?

"Cameras?" She asked.

"No, you're good. Take them in," Foaly responded.

Dipper was sneaking glances whenever he could at the blur getting steadily closer to them. It seemed like, despite his misgivings, Mabel's 'plan' had worked. He was trying not to grin.

There, where the shimmer had been, a figure snapped into existence. It had a helmet on and was holding some kind of weapon.

Before his grin could turn into a scream, the figure clipped him on the elbow. He felt a shock as the volts coursed through his system, and then everything went black.


	3. Chapter 2

Dipper had a headache.

It wasn't a normal one, either. It felt… weird, not quite painful, and it seemed to spread from his temple to between his eyes to the back of his head at will. He supposed electric shocks had a strange effect on the body-

Electric shocks.

He woke with a start, and would have leapt straight up had it not been for the cuffs pinning him to his chair. As it was, they simply added to his swiftly growing panic.

He looked around the room. It was a dreary place, all metal and glaring lights. Like some kind of prison. Mabel was snoring away next to him, held in place like he was.

"Mabel. Mabel!" He whispered as loud as he dared. No doubt their captors were listening in. "Wake up. We need to get out of here!"

Her eyelids fluttered. "Dipper? What's wrong?"

"We've been kidnapped! By that thing we saw in the window!"

She awoke with a start. Dipper watched her notice, then strain against the cuffs holding her wrists. "How do we get out of these?"

"I don't know, but-" The boy cut off his speech at the creak of the door opening. "Oh no. Stop! Sit down!"

The door opened fully. Dipper tried to steady his breathing, but he was terrified. His stomach was in knots. What did their kidnappers look like? What did they want from him?

A woman stepped into the room, walking swiftly over to them. She had cropped auburn hair and piercing hazel eyes. And pointed ears. Definitely not human, then.

"What do you want?" He blurted out before he could stop himself. "We're sorry for spying on you it was an accident please let us go home-"

"Calm down!" The woman looked a bit shocked at his outburst. "It's alright. I just want to talk to you two, then you can leave."

"...Oh." Dipper shifted a bit in his seat. "That's… good."

She took a deep breath, then began.

"My name is Holly Short. I am the elf that brought you here for questioning."

Questioning? That sounded ominous. Wait, elf?

"First off. How did you know I was there? Normally Mud Med aren't able to notice anything but a haze while we're shielded."

"Oh. Well, I didn't. I mean, I did. Only notice the haze." Dipper stuttered out. "It didn't make sense to see a heat haze in the middle of December, see, so I knew something weird was going on." No need to mention the bit where he was intending to capture and study her for science.

The woman - Holly - nodded a bit in response. "Interesting. So you haven't had any prior experience with the People?"

"The who?"

"The People. Fairies. Elves, pixies, gnomes, anyone who isn't human," she finished.

Dipper hesitated. He didn't entirely trust this elf, and he had a nagging feeling she wouldn't be happy if he said yes to her question. Besides, he had seen a lot of non-humans that didn't really seem to fit her description anyway. "I've never seen anyone like you before, that's for sure," he eventually admitted.

"Next, who were you talking to? Do they know about the People?"

This time, Mabel piped up. "That was our Grunkles!"

Holly wrinkled her nose a bit. "Your… Grunkles?"

"Great-uncles. It's a portmanteau," Dipper rapidly explained. "They're in the arctic north doing… " Dipper paused. "...Experiments. There's no way they would know about you guys though, they're super boring." He finished his statement with a smile, hoping the lie would hold.

It didn't. Holly's face seemed to close, eyebrows knitting together in a frown. "What kind of experiments?"

DIpper was about to scrape together a response, but Mabel jumped in before he could. "It's this atmospheric stuff! They're studying the Aurora, and what kind of conditions and stuff it needs to form. It's really complicated, I don't know much more than that." She rolled her eyes in a very convincing imitation of an exasperated child.

Oh Mabel thank you thank you thank you.

"We heard mentions of strange creatures on previous conversations. If they're studying the Aurora, why are they so involved with the wildlife?" So they had been monitoring their calls, too. Maybe that was why they had come in the first place.

"Well, they happen to run into a lot of stuff, y'know, just being there, and Grunkle Stan is kind of a daredevil." Mabel smiled a bit. "He likes to go after anything cool like that."

That seemed to satisfy her. "Alright then. Someone will be in soon to mind wipe you. You'll wake up tomorrow safe and sound, with no memory of this." She turned to leave the room.

Mind wipe? "What do you mean? We'll forget all of this?" Dipper asked worriedly.

She nodded. "Don't worry, there are no lasting effects, and your brain will fill in new memories for the ones you're missing." Holly smiled, as if that made this okay.

"But… but why? We haven't done anything wrong!" Dipper started. "You can't just mess with people's memories!" The panic was starting to rear up its head again. What if they messed up? Did they take away all supernatural memories? Would he forget some of his time in Gravity Falls too?

Holly stopped at the door and turned back to face them. "The People have to stay a secret from Mud Men. Humans," she explained, "we've seen what they can do to each other. Pollution, wars, all kinds of cruelty." She shuddered a bit at the thought. "We don't mix well."

Dipper still looked a bit uneasy as she stepped out of the room, but Holly put it out of her mind. This was the job, and besides, there was no need to worry. The kids would be in blissful ignorance by tomorrow morning, and she would never see them again.

It was amazing how wrong an elf could be.

* * *

The crushing darkness wasn't so crushing anymore. One could, just barely, feel the confines of the space start to let up, moment by moment, or maybe year by year, how should he know?

Bill Cipher was feeling almost giddy with the change. He could even see lights sometimes, see them, sporadic and faint but there. They spoke of the future. Of glorious change.

He reasoned that the brain of that fat oaf must be regaining its memories. Regaining him with it. He wanted to laugh at the irony, that stupid Sixer would heal his stupid brother just to bring back the thing that took him away, but he still wasn't able to create a form. Still. He would have to thank the guy once he got out. Eternal torture seemed like a fitting reward.

Right now there was nothing to do but wait, though. That was fine.

Bill Cipher envisioned the fire and chaos, the beautiful anarchy he had created not too long ago. Utopia.

He could wait for that.

* * *

**EDIT: Thank you to everyone who let me know about the formatting issues! I have no idea how/why it did that :p**


	4. Chapter 3

"Dipper!"

The voice seemed faded and muffled, like it was under water. Dipper turned to ignore it.

"Dipper! You have to…"

Have to? Have to what?

"Get up! We're gonna be late for school!"

Oh.

Dipper blearily struggled out from under his covers, squinting in the morning sun. It was a bummer, he'd been having an awesome dream about… something. He couldn't quite remember. Huh.

Mabel was already dressed and eating breakfast when Dipper came down, though she looked as tired as he was.

"You look like you had a rough night, bro-bro. Mabel juice?" She said, offering him a glass of the frighteningly pink substance. Against his better judgement, he took it. He really was tired.

"You don't look too great yourself, Mabel," the boy commented after a long swig of juice. "How late were we up talking to Stan and Ford?"

Mabel scratched her chin sleepily. "Geez, I don't even remember. Must've been late."

Must've been. Now that he thought about it, Dipper thought he could remember them talking for much later than they usually did. That must be why they were so tired now.

"We really shouldn't do that too often. Remember that math test today?" Dipper commented as he reached for the cereal.

Mabel let out a frustrated groan as she slumped against the table. "Well, now I do! Man, and I didn't even finish the study packet," she mumbled, taking another bite of cereal. "I wish we didn't have to go to school today."

The phone rang.

Mabel picked up the line, barely managing to tuck the phone under her head. "Yello?"

"Oh, thank goodness, Mabel!" Grunkle Ford's voice came over the line, staticky and tinged with worry. "We were worried when you just left last night. What happened?"

Mabel paused, her mouth half open. "...Nothing? I thought we stayed up late and then just went to bed."

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "No, not at all. At, I believe around 9:00 your time, both of you simply left. You didn't even hang up the phone. We thought you had been hurt."

"Oh," she replied. "Um…"

"Are you feeling okay?"

"Fine, just really tired," she replied, her voice edged with confusion.

"Does Dipper remember what happened?"

Mabel raised an eyebrow at the boy, who gave a slight shake of his head in response. "Nope," she relayed back over the phone.

"Interesting," Grunkle Ford commented.

Dipper's eyes were widening, excitement slowly taking the place of his exhaustion. "Wait. Grunkle Ford, do you think we ran into something from Gravity Falls?"

"Quite possibly. I didn't think many creatures traveled out as far as Piedmont, but it seems to be the most fitting explanation," Ford's voice crackled back in response. "You may have run into something with the power to alter memories. I don't know of many creatures that have that ability, it must have been something very unusual."

_We ran into a creature?_

"Are you sure we just left, Grunkle Ford?"

_We ran into a creature._

"Positive."

_Something unusual._

_How did you know I was there?_

The memory flickered in Dipper's mind, barely a shred of a conversation. He gasped at the thought.

"I remember something!" He exclaimed, slamming his hands down on the table. He focused, trying not to let it slip through his fingers.

Mabel's head jerked up from the phone. Her brow was furrowed, probably trying to recollect anything herself.

"Do you remember what they looked like? That would help tremendously," Came the tinny voice through the telephone.

Dipper concentrated. There were flashes. Auburn hair, hazel eyes.

Pointed ears.

"She was an elf! She said she was a fairy, I think," he blurted out, memories rushing back faster now. They had kidnapped him. Why would they do that?

On the other side of the room, Mabel's eyes were slowly growing wider as her memories began to return as well. "That's right! Grunkle Ford, it was so weird, they had this whole secret base, and this lady was questioning us…"

Dipper let Mabel explain the story as he sank back into his chair. He sifted through his newly revealed memories, checking to make sure each one was in its place.

It all seemed too big to forget now. He chuckled a bit to himself. Staying up late chatting! Thank goodness the wipe had been cleared before he had time to form a more concrete alibi.

In the back of his mind, Dipper was still reeling from the realization that, if not for his Grunkles, he very well could have just forgotten the only exciting thing that had happened since summer. He patted his journal, hidden in his vest pocket. He would have to be better about cataloguing his findings in the future.

Mabel was finishing her story. Dipper heard the line click after her goodbye. She turned to him, eyes bright.

"So Grunkle Ford says we should go to school like normal, but we need to be careful in case they show up again. And he's gonna see what he can find on the fairies, and if he comes up with anything he'll tell us tonight," she rattled off, counting off points on her fingers.

"Man, how do we just go to school after that?" Dipper asked, already feeling his heart sink as he thought of Grunkle Ford doing research while he was stuck in class.

Mabel laughed a bit. "Don't worry, bro! The day'll go by in a snap, trust me! You'll be back to your nerd stuff before you know it," she said, turning to pick up her backpack and skipping out the door.

"I thought you were just saying we should skip school!" Dipper ran out the door after his sister, clutching his own backpack.

"I was saying I _wish_ we could, not we should!" She laughed, racing down the sidewalk. "Bet I can beat you to the bus stop!"

"What- Hey, no fair! You left before me!" Dipper called out, a grin spreading across his face as he picked up his pace.

And conversation about pointed ears was lost among laughter and yells.

**And here's Chapter 3! This is about where the story 'setup' ends, and the really fun stuff begins... Comment if you liked it, and see you next Saturday!**


	5. Chapter 4

It was never quiet on a boat, especially one in waters as tough as theirs. Stanford Pines had gotten used to the sounds of the Stan o' War 2, to the creaking of the floorboards, the whoosh of water past the hull, the caw of gulls overhead.

And, of course, the constant chatter of his brother.

"Did you call the kids?" Stanley asked as he entered his brother's cabin, rubbing his head. The sea air seemed to be giving him headaches from time to time, though he always insisted they were well worth it to spend time with his brother. He carefully avoided the whirring computers spilling onto the floor. Admittedly, Ford's room was a bit of a mess.

"Yes, and they seem Ok," the man himself responded, looking up from the computer he was typing into, "although they had no memory of leaving early. I seem to have triggered recall when I called them. Mabel said they were abducted by fairies."

Stanley stared at his brother for a few seconds, then chuckled. "Yeah, fairies, of course! Why didn't I think of that?" He sat down on top of a discarded computer casing. "Fairies. Well, at least those two know how to handle themselves. Don't know how I'd explain that to their parents. Whatcha doing there?" He asked gesturing to the computer.

"Research. I'm trying to find more on the fairies in case they come back, or come after us," Stanford responded. "So far, I haven't found much, but there's bits and pieces around."

Stanley snorted. "Good luck. If the guys can erase memory, there's probably not much to be found."

"Oh, you'd be surpri… " Stanford trailed off as he stared at the screen. Jackpot.

Stanley noticed his expression. "What is it?"

"An advertisement," he responded, leaning over to let his brother see the screen.

Stanley peered at the message on screen.

"Irish businessman will pay large amount of U.S. dollars to meet a fairy, sprite, leprechaun, pixie."

Stanley shrugged. "So what? Some eccentric on a wild goose chase, it doesn't mean he knows anything."

"No. The ad is closed." Stanford pointed to the screen. "Which means he either gave up…"

"Or found what he was looking for," Stanley finished, realization dawning on him. "Well, who sent the ad?"

"Hold on," Stanford mumbled, busy typing. The ad itself was anonymous, and he was still too unfamiliar with modern computers to try to track the sender down, but there were only so many Irish businessmen around.

After a bit of searching, it turned out that there was one family that fit the bill perfectly. Stanford pulled up a photo and turned the screen to his brother.

"The Fowls. Irish family, history of crime, and a lot of strange events happening since this ad was posted."

Stanley squinted at the faces on screen. "So it was this guy, huh? Mr. Fowl?"

"No. That's one of the strange bits." Stanford was back to typing. "When the ad was posted, both Mr. and Mrs. Fowl were out of commission. He had gone missing in Russia after a trading ship he was on sank, and she practically went into hiding after that. It was rumored she was extremely depressed, barely functional."

"So who posted it?"

"He did." Stanford pointed to the child in the photo.

Stanley looked at the face, incredulous. At first. But there was something about the boy. Even through the screen, he seemed… cold, calculating. Stanley took an instant dislike to him.

"Artemis Fowl Jr, 12 at the time of posting," Stanford continued. "A few months after, his mother makes a full recovery. A year after that, his father comes back from the arctic, miraculously alive. He's had plenty of mysterious disappearances since then. Sometimes he's sighted across the globe within hours."

"So they kidnap our kids, but _this_ guy they decide to become pals with?" Stanley scoffed. "What's up with that?"

"It doesn't matter." Stanford said, looking up from the screen. "He knows more about the fairies, and we need to talk to him."

"Woah, woah, no!" Stanley said, a bit louder than absolutely necessary. Stanford stared in surprise.

"I mean..." Stanley coughed. "This guy, it sounds like he's in cahoots with the fairies. He could just rat us out. To me, we need to stay away from him if anything." Being a con artist hadn't earned Stanley many friends over the years, and this kid certainly wouldn't be one of them.

Stanford mulled it over, then sighed. "You're right. We'll need to go about this another way. That's unfortunate, he was the best lead we had."

"Ah, you'll find something, Sixer," Stanley replied with a pat on his brother's back. Stanford winced at the nickname, at the thought of _the last person who called me that, _and Stanley noticed his discomfort.

"You okay?" He asked, concerned.

"Yes, I'm fine," Stanford responded, "just…"

He stopped at the feel of a hand rubbing his back. He looked up to the face of his brother, lines etched into the corners of his eyes.

"He's gone, Stanford. You made sure of that." Stanley sounded so confident, so _sure_ that the danger was past, but Stanford still couldn't quell his worry. Some days it seemed as though he was 30 again, jumping at every sound, too terrified to sleep through the night. Afraid to dream.

But he held those thoughts back, and smiled at his brother as sincerely as he could. "I know. You're right. Let's just… talk about something else. Would you like to watch the Jersey Devil tape again?"

Stanley laughed. "No need to ask me twice! I'll go set it up," and he ran out of the room, exuberant as a child.

Despite the evidence against it, sometimes Stanford could swear his brother could read his mind. How was it that after 30 years, he could still fish out the meaning in every furrowed brow, every sentence cut short? How had he failed to notice how well Stanley knew him for so long?

Traveling through dimension after dimension for 30 years had been a scientifically fascinating journey, but an achingly lonely one as well. He met friends, enemies, mentors, partners, and then discarded them to seek a new dimension. To keep one step ahead of Bill.

And then he had come home at last, and he had hated it. Dragged back to Earth by his brother once again, metaphorically and literally. And he had failed to realize how foolish that thought was until it was almost too late.

Thank God it hadn't been.

He chuckled to himself, shaking his head, then got up and followed his brother's path out the door. There was time enough for melodrama later. For now, watching old home films would suffice.

Stanford left his room at a much calmer pace, pausing to take in the sea air. It was a shame Stanley got migraines after too long outside; the view was truly beautiful. The glitter of orange-red sun on the water reminded him of carefree evenings at Glass Shard Beach.

"Stanley? Do you want any popcorn?" He called down to the hull, where the projector was stored. There was no response.

Despite chastising himself that he was being paranoid, Stanford's good mood slowly began melting away. "Stanley?" He called out again, unable to stop a shiver passing down his spine. His steps echoed off metal walls as he descended the staircase. Once he entered the movie room, it was obvious why his brother hadn't responded.

"Stan- _Stanley!"_

Stanford ran to his brother, who was collapsed at the base of the projector, breathing raggedly.

"Oh my- what happened? Are you alright?" Heart hammering, the scientist rushed through every physical check he could think of; steady pulse, breathing was labored but deep, seemingly unconscious. Why?

Then Stan's eyes opened, and Ford felt his heart leap into his throat. He scrambled backward, barely feeling the pain as his foot slammed against the couch.

Those were not his brother's eyes, but they were eyes he knew. They were eyes he _feared._

They were yellow with a cat's eye pupil.

Stan's mouth slowly, laboriously stretched into a grin. It looked painful, too wide for a human face.

"Hi, Sixer," said Bill Cipher.


	6. Chapter 5

Far away from a ship in the arctic north, Dipper was valiantly trying to pay attention to his history class. On any other day, the lesson on ancient Egyptian mythology would have enraptured him, but today his thoughts were preoccupied with a different civilization.

_Are they going to come back?_

He stared out the window, carefully scanning the horizon for haze.

_Do they know we regained our memories? What if they're watching us right now?_

His eyes narrowed. There was nothing as far as he could tell. No signs of invisible beings, hostile or otherwise. No freaky elves coming to take him and Mabel away and mess with their minds.

Dipper sighed. Maybe he was being paranoid; after all, there was no way for them to know their memories were back, it happened only this morning and _wait what was that._

A shadow underneath a tree had shifted, just barely, closer to the school. Dipper watched it closely. There was no wind to move the tree, and no animal or school-skipping teenager stepped forth as the culprit. But there was no heat haze either.

Strange. Dipper squinted in the direction of the shadow. There was that flicker again, and nothing else moved. It was like something was _trying _to come out, but just couldn't manage to.

But as he stared, two things happened.

The edges of his vision shifted slowly into grayscale.

And a yellow eye opened in the darkness.

Cold fear gripped Dipper's stomach, his lungs. He could barely get the breath to excuse himself to the bathroom, and the teacher's protests were garbled compared to the sound of his heartbeat in his ears. Mabel asked him what was wrong as he passed her. He couldn't respond.

He ran out of the classroom, down the hall, several times almost tripping or slamming into something. All he knew was that he needed to hide, now.

He found himself in the bathroom entirely by accident, shivering with the stall door locked. Not that a door would be any good against _him_ anyways.

_He can't be back. He can't. We killed him._

Dipper's mind was racing along with his heart, pacing through options, counterattacks, _anything._

_Call Grunkle Ford. He'll know what to do._

The boy's hands fumbled as he took out his phone, barely dialing the numbers correctly. Each ring seemed like an eternity.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four?

That wasn't right. Stanford always picked up after three rings, maximum. Something was wrong.

Deep breaths. No use panicking.

He switched to Mabel instead. At the very least, he would be able to tell her why he had run off. Opening messaging revealed he already had a flurry of worried texts from her, littered with plenty of sad-faced emojis.

_I saw Bill_, he wrote. _Don't know if it was real or not._

_I think it was._

The stream of texts stopped abruptly. After a few seconds, a solitary message pinged onto the screen.

_R u okay?_

He typed back. _Locked myself in the bathroom. Getting better._

_Good. We're doing boring stuff over here, take your time. Did u call Grunkle Ford?_

Dipper was about to reply when a stream of texts crowded his screen.

_Shoot. Teacher is coming. Call Gkl Ford. Be safe :'(_

And Dipper was alone again.

He sighed, leaning back against the stippled plastic wall. He was probably overreacting, anyway. One little glimpse could have been anything, maybe a trick of the light, or even just his imagination.

And then his phone rang.

He jerked back upward, almost dropping the device while trying to check the caller ID. Grunkle Ford.

He answered immediately, breath rushing out in incoherent sentences before his brain could catch up. "Grunkle Ford! I was just trying to call you, I saw something just now, it might have been my imagination but-"

"Bill." The single quiet word from his great-uncle was enough to stop Dipper's winding speech cold.

"...Yeah. How did you know?" A creeping dread was starting to seep back into him, along with the thought that maybe there hadn't been a trick of the light after all.

"Stanley just… never mind. He's coming back." Stanford's voice sounded near emotionless, and only close family could have picked out the slight tremor that gave away his fear.

Dipper was silent. What could he say? "...What do we do?" He asked finally.

There was a slight sigh over the receiver. "I'm not sure. It seems we're in a similar state to when he was limited to the dreamscape; he can't affect us, but there's not much that can affect him either. Except this time, there is a definite end date to his entrapment," he said, and Dipper could almost hear the bags under his eyes.

"Well… we can use the zodiac, right? We just have to get everyone together," the boy answered, mind already working to think of how fast he could get to Gravity Falls. "Winter break is next week, Mabel and I can leave town then, is that too late?"

"I'm not worried about getting you out of town, I'm worried about getting me and Stanley to you," Stanford responded. "It will take longer than I would like to get to the United States, especially considering Stanley may not be… fit for travel."

"But I thought he was doing better now! You said his memories were…" Dipper's eyes widened as his mind clicked the pieces of information he had together, forming an ugly picture. "He's not… Is he okay?"

"He is fine, for now. But he is getting worse." Dipper chose to ignore the crack in his uncle's voice at the last word. He could faintly hear him curse away from the receiver. "If only there was something faster!"

Dipper cleared his throat; it had become dry all of a sudden. "I'll tell Mabel. We'll be in Gravity Falls as fast as we can."

"Good." There was a pause, and Stanford's voice came back, softer now. "We'll figure this out, Dipper. I promise."

"Okay." Dipper's voice sounded hollow and far away, even to him. He mumbled through goodbyes with his Grunkle, and the conversation ended with a click from the phone. It felt final, somehow; an ending of his peace and quiet.

He walked back down the tiled hallways, much slower this time, footsteps seemingly weighed down by his thoughts. The patterns on the floor inched by as he rounded the corner, walking into-

Mabel?

"Dipper!" She exclaimed, turning around and brushing a lock of hair back into place. She had a worried crease on her brow. "What happened, are you okay?"

The boy blinked. "Mabel? What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you, silly!" She responded with a playful punch to his arm. "You scared me when you ran off like that." She brought her arm back by her side, awkwardly pinching her sweater sleeve. "Are you… what's going on?"

Dipper sighed and pressed his eyes shut as his conversation with Grunkle Ford came rushing back to him. He struggled to find the words to tell her what was wrong, but it turned out he didn't have to.

"Is he coming back?" She said quietly before Dipper could speak, and the boy could do nothing but nod. He wanted to say how Grunkle Ford had a plan, that they would go to Gravity Falls and everything would be fine, but the words sounded hollow even in his mind.

Then fear settled on Mabel's face, and she put her head in her hands. "No! And I broke the memory eraser too!" She sighed, and Dipper watched the creases under her eyes grow.

But with a flash, they disappeared.

"But we don't need it," she said quietly.

Dipper, somewhat concerned at the reaction his sister was having to the news, tentatively pat Mabel's sleeve. He jumped back when she jerked upright, a smile broad on her face.

"Dipper! We know people who can erase memories!" She said excitedly, her usual cheer creeping back into her voice. And half a second before she said it, it clicked with the boy, and his eyes widened in shock.

"The fairies!"


	7. Chapter 6

Stanford couldn't breathe.

The room spun as he scrambled back, away from those _damn eyes_, and nothing existed but yellow and the burning in his lungs.

And then, as quickly as it had come, Stanley's head lolled back, his grin faded, and his eyes shut, sinking back into unconsciousness.

Stanford did not approach him at first, still blinking at the form on the floor with fear. He could hear his phone ringing faintly in the distance, but he was frozen in place, unable to tear his eyes off his brother.

Slowly, in what seemed like an eternity, Stanley's eyes blinked open sleepily. Stanford breathed a sigh upon seeing his normal brown irises.

Stanley's brow creased when he saw his brother standing behind the beaten-up couch, shaking slightly still.

"Hey, uh… you okay there, Ford?" He asked hesitantly. "You look like you saw a ghost."

Stanford took a few deep breaths before answering quietly. "I did."

He shook his head for a bit, as if warding off a nagging fly, and walked over to Stanley. "Here," he said, and hoisted him up off the floor.

They didn't talk immediately when they got to the couch and collapsed in tandem. The air seemed heavy with a fear Stanford had thought long past, too thick to carry words.

Finally, Stanley broke the silence with a low laugh.

"Well, guess it's not the sea that's been giving me headaches," he said with a sigh.

At that, the tension in the air snapped, and Ford felt the enormity of what he had just seen punch the air from his lungs. He turned to his brother, fear heavy in his eyes.

"Stanley," he started, "I'm so sorry." He searched for more to say, but the words wouldn't leave his tongue.

"Hey." Stanley put his arm around his brother's shoulder. The weight anchored Stanford, grounding him to the ship instead of leaving him drifting in panic. "We'll be okay," Stanley said. "We beat this sucker once, we can do it again." And he smiled, and Stanford didn't have the heart to bring up what that victory had almost cost.

"My phone," he mumbled instead, pulling the device out of his coat pocket. "It rang, it must've been Dipper and Mabel." He redialed the missed number, and startled Dipper so much he almost dropped his phone, by the sound of it.

He felt Stanley's gaze on him as he talked. It weighed on him.

Finally, the line clicked shut.

"Y'know, I'm not that old. A trip to Gravity Falls isn't going to kill me," Stanley said in a wry tone.

"I'm sure it wouldn't," replied Ford, "normally. However, the trip would be arduous ordinarily, and I have a sneaking suspicion Bill would not make it easier for us." He spoke in an even tone, eyes focused on the ground.

Stanley cast his gaze down to match. "Well, it's not like we have any better options," he said with a sigh.

Stanford's phone buzzed. The scientist glanced down at the notification he had received.

_GRUNKLE FORD! I THOUGHT OF A WAY BETTER OPTION!_

Ford's brows raised as he read Mabel's text, his surprise evident.

Stanley cocked an eyebrow at his brother's face. "Who is it?"

"Mabel," Stanford responded, "and she says she has a better plan."

The two men waited with bated breath for their grand-niece to elaborate. Finally, Ford's phone chimed again.

_We can ask the fairies for help! Their mind-wipey stuff is super fast and accurate, it could probably wipe just Bill out instead of wiping all of Grunkle Stan's memories!_

Ah.

Stanford showed the text to his brother, who sucked in a breath when he saw her plan.

"Oh, Mabel," he groaned. "You can't just make friends with everyone, kid."

Stanford was about to text back when he stopped.

"Actually," he started slowly, "it might not be a terrible idea."

Stanley stared at his brother incredulously.

"Ford, you can't be serious. Those guys are _kidnappers._ They don't care about helping us," he said, turning to face Stanford.

"I know." Ford concentrated on the phone, and let the gears turn in his head. "But they erase the memories of anyone who knows about them. If we informed them that we know of their society, and will only consent to a mind wipe if they wipe Bill as well, it could be feasibly done!" He raised his head, eyes shining with new hope. "I'd be willing to bet a society like theirs locates people electronically, but the electromagnetic dampeners I placed on the ship should be enough to negate those." The spells had been a preemptive measure so as to not scare any electroreceptive cryptids away, and Stanford didn't think he had ever been more thankful for them.

Stanford stood and began pacing around the back of the room. "It would almost certainly be faster than trying to make it to Gravity Falls, especially considering what a pain Customs was the first time." He winced slightly, remembering the ordeal of one legally dead man and one man wanted for tax fraud trying to find a way through the Norwegian barrier.

"Stanford, we have to be careful," Stanley said carefully. "These people aren't friendly. We might be biting off more than we can chew here."

Stanford looked at his brother. There was worry written plain on his face, and Stanford knew it was for him.

"Stanley, you should be worried for yourself right now," he responded, walking closer to the couch. "I would be willing to deal with any consequences as long as Bill is gone and you are safe."

Slowly, the worry drained from Stanley's face, and was replaced with determination.

"Alright then," he said, "sounds like we have a call to make."

**Sorry for being a day late! I had Homecoming this weekend, and trying to find time to upload this chapter was rough...**


	8. Chapter 7

Artemis Fowl Ⅱ was sitting at his desk, staring at his computer screen over clasped hands. He had not moved in some time.

Two applications were open, splitting the screen down the center.

On the left side was an email he had received exactly twenty-seven minutes ago to one of his many business accounts. It had so far proved untraceable, and read as such;

_Master Fowl,_

_In the interest of privacy I shall keep things vague, but I wish to inform you that I and an associate know about your more secretive business partners. We do not intend to reveal their existence to anyone else; rather, we wish to speak to them and barter a deal. We are willing to forget about them once we reach an agreement. If you could allow us to contact them directly or to act as intermediary yourself, it would be much appreciated. Please let us know what they decide promptly; time is of the essence._

_Anonymous_

On the right side of his screen was Foaly, who had been panicking for the last twenty-seven minutes.

"This is bad," he said, "oh, _Frond_ this is bad."

Artemis mulled over the message. "In all honesty, it's not nearly as bad as it could have been," he commented. "Our mystery messengers do not seem interested in exposing the existence of the People, and they seem to be willing to consent to a mind wipe after their deal is complete."

Foaly sputtered a bit on screen "Not as ba- _not as bad? _Fowl, we have two Mud Men running around with knowledge of the People, and I _can't find them._" He clutched the edges of his desk. "Frankly, I can't think of how this could get worse," he muttered. "I don't know why you're so calm about this."

"Believe me, this is hardly the first anonymous threat I've received," the teen responded. "In fact, I would say it's among the tamest."

Behind the centaur, Artemis saw the doors of the Ops booth open.

"Vinyaya's given us the go-ahead to ask what they want," Holly said as she stepped into the room. One wouldn't have guessed her stress from her hard expression and clipped speech, but Artemis could see her face was a slight shade paler than normal. "Said it's the fastest way to move things along."

Artemis nodded. "My thoughts exactly. At the very least, it buys us time."

Foaly turned around to face the elf. "Please tell me the Council isn't getting involved in this," he groaned. "It'll be a nightmare if they cover this mess with red tape."

"No worries," Holly responded. "So far, she's the only one other than us involved."

Artemis set his hands over his keyboard. "Are there any points you would like my response to include?"

"We need to know what the terms of their 'deal' is," Holly said. "And see what else you can find out about them."

The teen thought for a moment, then began to type his response, now from his personal encrypted account.

_Anonymous,_

_On this account, there is no need to speak in code; it is far more secure than typical communication channels. My friends would like a few more pieces of information before making any further decisions. Firstly, they need to know what the terms of your agreement would be. Secondly, they would like a gesture of goodwill to prove you truly intend to preserve their secrecy. Without these two pieces, we will be unable to continue our negotiations._

_Artemis Fowl_

It was barely five minutes before his computer pinged again with a response. Artemis opened the email, and three pairs of eyes fixed on the message.

_Our terms are simple; we need assistance with erasing a memory. After this has been done, we will allow the fairies to wipe our memories of them._

_As for a gesture of goodwill, I hope our identities shall suffice. My name is Stanford Pines, and my associate is my brother Stanley. He is the one in need of a mind wipe. I believe you have already met my niece and nephew, Dipper and Mabel._

Foaly began typing as soon as he had finished reading the response. "Stanford and Stanley Pines…" he muttered, before looking back at the camera with confusion plain on his face. "According to legal records, Stanford hasn't been seen since receiving a research grant out of college, and Stanley died in a car crash over 30 years ago."

"We know Dipper and Mabel, though," Holly said, brow furrowing with recognition. "Those are the two kids we wiped a few days ago! Stanford and Stanley must have been the ones they were talking to."

Artemis closed his eyes for a moment, sinking into deep thought. Finally, he looked back up at the screen. "A mind wipe would put both of them unconscious. If we didn't fulfill their request, they would have no way of knowing. Either they are unaware of this," he continued, "or they are simply desperate."

There was silence for a minute as the information sunk in.

"Why?" Holly asked. "What would someone want to forget this badly?"

"I don't know," Foaly responded, "but I guess we'll find out."

Artemis began to draft a response.

_Stanford Pines,_

_We will have to perform a search of your dwelling to clear it of any artifacts that could trigger recall. We will also have to wipe Dipper and Mabel again, as they cannot be allowed to keep their memories._

_With these two caveats, we agree to your terms._

_That damn centaur._

Bill was watching the affair play out in flashes and bursts, but he got the gist of it. And he didn't need to be all-seeing to realize that Foaly would go through with Stanford's stupid deal, no matter how ridiculous it sounded. How _frustrating_ it was to be stuck here when even trapped in another dimension, he could have given Foaly a piece of his mind.

But maybe he could talk to someone else.

Breaking out of Stanley's subconscious, even for a split second, had felt _amazing._ His powers were coming back, no doubt. What he needed was to talk to someone malleable, someone who just needed the right push to make sure this whole mess went south.

And he had just the person in mind.


	9. Chapter 8

This was, quite possibly, the strangest dream Artemis had ever had.

Nothing about it was particularly remarkable as far as dreams went, he thought as he took in the wide expanse of violet sky dotted not only with stars but with theorems, papers, half-sketched plans floating in midair, but it felt _incredibly_ real. Never before had he had a dream so vivid he could hear his footfalls against the cloudlike floor, feel the grain of the paper he experimentally pulled out of the air. If it weren't for the fantastic surroundings, he might have said he wasn't dreaming at all.

"HI THERE!"

The voice boomed through the still environment, shattering the peace as effectively as a cannon. Artemis jumped and quickly turned his head to catch sight of whoever had spoken.

He could not have been more surprised to see a small yellow triangle floating a few steps away, holding a cane and tipping a hat in his direction.

"WHAT, NEVER SEEN A DREAM DEMON BEFORE, KID?" announced the creature with an amused crinkle of his eye. Then he let out a laugh. "AH, I'M JUST MESSING WITH YOU. NAME'S BILL CIPHER," he said with another tip of his top hat, "AND YOU'RE ARTEMIS FOWL, HUH?"

It took Artemis a second to find his voice. "I… yes. I'm sorry, did you say _demon_?"

Bill sighed. "YUP. NOT WHAT YOU'RE THINKING, I PROMISE. BELIEVE ME, I HAVE NOTHING IN COMMON WITH THOSE WALKING, TALKING PILES OF ASH." He rolled his eye as if simply talking about the subject was beneath him.

This was interesting. Bill was certainly not like any demon - real or mythological - he had seen; in fact, he was unlike any being Artemis had ever heard of. The teen found himself curious. He was certainly not any kind of fairy, and possibly not even an organism at all. His magic was unique, as well; telepathic powers were not generally found in a fairy's skill set, and they took immense energy for even the most skilled of warlocks. Bill was a mystery, a puzzle of sorts, and Artemis found himself eager to discover more pieces.

"Where are we?" he asked, taking a fresh look at the surroundings.

"GOOD QUESTION, KID!" He responded, and gestured to the surrounding space with his cane. "WELCOME TO YOUR MINDSCAPE! PRETTY FINE ONE, IF I DO SAY SO MYSELF," he said with a raise of his eyebrow.

Surprised, Artemis took a fresh glance at the area. Now that he was looking, he could see a corner of that painting he had been drafting, a prototype of a new microchip he had been fiddling with. "Interesting," he murmured. Even though he had never seen the area before, it felt oddly familiar.

"But I assume you are not here to explore," he said, looking back at the demon.

"AH! STRAIGHT TO BUSINESS, HUH? I LIKE IT," Bill said, rubbing his hands together. "HERE'S THE THING. I NEED A TINY FAVOR FROM YOU."

The teen blinked once, then stepped back, the suggestion making him wary. Bill seemed friendly, granted, but he also felt oddly _powerful_, in a way that grated on Artemis's nerves ever so slightly. He suddenly felt he could empathize with the soldier's sense that Butler occasionally mentioned. "I see," he said quietly.

"LET ME EXPLAIN." Suddenly, Bill's eye expanded and flickered, showing a photo of an old man leaning on the rails of a boat. "THIS IS STAN. YOU KNOW HIM, HE'S THE GUY YOUR FAIRY FRIENDS ARE GOING TO MIND WIPE." Bill blinked, and the picture was gone, replaced only by the demon's furrowed brow. "NOW, I CAN'T LET THAT HAPPEN. HE KNOWS SOME THINGS I'D RATHER HE DIDN'T FORGET. I'D LIKE YOU," and at this he pointed his cane at Artemis, "TO TALK YOUR WAY DOWN THERE AND GET MY FRIEND OUT." He lifted his brow at the end of his statement. "I PROMISE TO PAY YOU HANDSOMELY."

"With what?" Artemis replied. He was not so overwhelmed as to miss the several holes in the information Bill had given him, but he decided not to challenge the demon for the time being. Better to continue the conversation than to scare him off or anger him.

Bill laughed. "KID, I'M THE MASTER OF THE MIND. YOU IMAGINE IT, AND IT'S AT THE TIPS OF MY FINGERS." And he snapped those very fingers, and suddenly the world switched to an open, airy room filled with men in robes.

"WANT TO ATTEND ONE OF SOCRATES'S LECTURES?" He asked with a wave. "OR-" Snap. "HAVE LUNCH WITH EINSTEIN?" The scientist gave them a grin, but Artemis could barely wave before Bill had moved on. "OR HEY-" Snap, and the world was back as it had been. "WHY STICK IN THE PAST? LET'S CHECK OUT THE FUTURE!"

"GOT A BURNING QUESTION ABOUT THE LAWS OF PHYSICS?" He asked, gesturing to a mess of calculations floating nearby. "JUST ASK! I KNOW A FEW _WEIRD_ CAVEATS TO THE FUNDAMENTAL FORCES THAT HUMANS DON'T FIGURE OUT FOR A GOOD WHILE. ESPECIALLY GRAVITY, THAT ONE'S FUN!" He ended with a laugh.

"PREDICTIONS, EXPERIENCES, KNOWLEDGE; I GOT IT ALL, KID. SO," he finished, holding out his hand, "WHADDYA SAY?"

The gravitas of what Bill was offering started to sink in. Artemis's eyes widened as he imagined everything he could ask for, and all he would have to do is-

Go behind Holly's back and sabotage a mind wipe, wrecking the secrecy of the People, and potentially leading to the discovery of fairies by mankind.

Oh.

He felt slightly sick as he realized how easily this… being, whom he had met five minutes ago, had almost talked him into betraying his closest friend. Slowly, the observations he had made of Stanford's email began to trickle back into his head. _They're desperate to get rid of something. Bill is desperate to keep it._

"...That is quite the offer," he eventually replied quietly. "I wonder, what does this man know that is so important to you?"

Bill waved a hand at the question. "AH, STUFF. NOTHING YOU NEED TO WORRY ABOUT."

"I think I do, actually."

At the steely tone of Artemis's voice, Bill blinked. He turned toward the teen, a small bit of his levity chipped away. "LISTEN, KID. I'M GIVING YOU A ONCE IN A LIFETIME OPPORTUNITY HERE."

"And asking me to betray my friend to obtain it," Artemis replied in a low tone. "I apologize, but I will have to reject your offer."

Bill seems stunned, frozen in place. "KID, I'M KINDA PRESSED FOR TIME HERE. I DON'T HAVE TIME FOR YOU TO MESS AROUND, TALKING ABOUT _FRIENDSHIP_ AND WHATEVER." His slitted pupil seemed to be growing even smaller, if that was possible, but Artemis could not tell if it was out of fear or anger.

"I am not messing around." The teen's voice was level, even as Bill's rose and shook. "And I will not put Holly or the fairies in danger."

Bill laughed, and this time Artemis could hear a dangerous edge to his voice. "HOLLY? YOU MEAN THAT _GREAT FRIEND_ YOU KIDNAPPED AND HELD FOR RANSOM? _THAT'S _WHO YOU'RE PRIORITIZING OVER THE SECRETS OF THE UNIVERSE?"

That wasn't fair. The comment stung, and the teen felt adrenaline course up his spine like electricity, white-hot anger making his voice shake as he spoke. "I was a different person when I… back then."

"WISH I WAS TALKING TO THAT DIFFERENT PERSON RIGHT NOW. A FEW YEARS AGO, YOU WOULDN'T HAVE HESITATED!" Bill shot back. "WHAT HAPPENED?"

"I think you know," Aremis responded coldly. He felt uncomfortable, heartbeat loud in his ears. He wanted to stop listening, to tear out Bill's words digging into his brain. He wanted to leave.

Bill scoffed. "AND HERE I THOUGHT YOU WERE ONE OF THE SMARTER MEATSACKS." He rose up into the air, and was Artemis imagining it, or was he growing? "DON'T YOU GET IT? SHE'S HOLDING YOU BACK, THEY ALL ARE! I COULD MAKE YOU GREATER THAN YOU CAN IMAGINE! NOW, STOP BEING _STUPID, _AND JUST. SAY. YES."

The demon was frenzied, furious. And Artemis realized that he truly couldn't comprehend why he was saying no. The knowledge calmed him, somehow.

"You should leave," he said. "Now."

Bill blinked, and sank back down. His gaze was piercing on Artemis for a few painfully long seconds. Then he turned away, all frustration seemingly gone. "OKAY. FAIR ENOUGH. I'LL GIVE YOU A BIT OF TIME TO..." He shot Artemis a look as he walked towards the dark corners of the mindscape. "RECONSIDER."

Bill melted into the violet backdrop of the room, and Artemis woke, a sliver of unease resting heavy in his chest.

**Hello! Just a warning, I might have to go back and rewrite some stuff in previous chapters - the plot is getting a touch-up, and I might need to add extra bits and bobs, so keep an eye out! Also, I have a physics project coming up, and unfortunately, school comes first (sigh) so future chapters might be a bit late. Thanks for being patient, and thanks so much for your likes and comments! I read every single one, even if I'm too shy to respond, and they mean a lot to me! :)**


	10. Chapter 9

"Stanford and Stanley Pines."

Foaly muttered the names under his breath as he typed. Of course, his cursory search of the two men had revealed little, but he was far from done looking into their history.

Two minutes of searching and a bit of poking around government databases revealed that Stanley had a criminal record a mile long, filled with petty crimes and fraud. Up until 30 years ago, when he supposedly died in a car crash.

Stanford, on the other hand, had apparently been a rising star. He was granted $100,000 for private research after graduating Backupsmore University, and moved to Gravity Falls to study the wildlife. Up until 30 years ago, when he lost contact with his university completely and seemingly disappeared.

Or did he?

Foaly quickly pulled up all news about Gravity Falls from the past 30 years. He raised his eyebrows at the amount of times Stanford Pines came up. There were regular advertisements for the 'Mystery Shack', and more recently a front-page spread of him taking down some rival named 'Lil Gideon'. Foaly was shocked he had stayed 'disappeared' for as long as he had. It was like he wasn't even trying to hide.

But there was one small article, dated almost exactly 30 years ago, that caught his eye.

MYSTERY AFOOT? LOCAL SCIENTIST CAUSING MAYHEM, DISRUPTION

Written by David Determined

Something may be very wrong at the house of local biologist Stanford Pines. Residents have reported seeing strange flashing lights late at night, sometimes coupled with small earthquakes or sounds of heavy machinery.

"Gosh, it's scary going up there, especially late," said Susan Wentworth, owner of the local Greasy's diner. "He's a nice enough man, but I can't imagine what he's doing. I stay in after dark now."

"One time, he came out of the house, and there was something wrong with his eyes," said junior lumberjack Boyish Dan. "They looked kinda yellow. I think he hasn't been getting enough sleep."

Stanford Pines could not be reached for comment.

We urge all residents to stay safe, and to report any suspicious activity to the police.

Foaly stopped reading with a furrowed frown on his face. He had ended up with more questions than he started with, and Stanford's career as a 'biologist' was looking more suspect by the second. Perhaps a bit of research could shed light on why a disappeared scientist had such an interest in memory wiping.

There were more articles, dated just a few days later, titled CULT TERRORIZES LOCALS! Foaly pulled them up, cracked his knuckles for good measure, and began to read.

Unusual.

Artemis stretched before stepping lightly out of bed. It was early; the sun had barely begun to peek through his window, and the room was bathed in the blue-gray of dawn. He didn't usually wake this early.

Now, with a few seconds of clarity between him and his dream, he began to chuckle at the nervousness he had felt. It had been ridiculous, now that he stopped to think about it. Evil triangles in a realized version of his consciousness? The human mind certainly was creative. He would have to reconsult his Freudian textbooks at some point for analysis.

He was halfway to his closet door when his fairy communicator, a blue ring on his bedside table, buzzed rather urgently. He retraced his steps to the bed, feeling a trace of confusion. Normally by this point in the morning everyone in Haven would be asleep.

He twisted the ring onto his finger before bringing his hand up to his face, finger and thumb forming a phone gesture. A familiar whinny clued him into who was calling.

"Foaly," he commented, "burning the midnight oil? Or daybreak oil, I suppose," he said, mentally chuckling at the quip.

"No time for jokes, Fowl." The centaur's voice was grave through the communicator. "Get on your computer. You need to see this."

"So he is trying to erase a demon?"

"I know how it sounds," Foaly replied quickly, "but it seems to add up. Look," and he gestured to one of the news articles he had pulled up. "Stanford's lab partner went nuts after working on a mysterious 'project'. He starts ranting about eyes and triangles and the end of the world, and then he up and starts a cult."

"One case isn't enough to justify-" Artemis started, but Foaly cut him off.

"Oh, I have more than one case," the centaur replied gravely. He pulled up a long list of names, each one with a small blurb underneath them.

"I did a quick search for articles about similar situations. Look at this," he said, and Artemis started reading the list.

"Mark Johnson, 1964. Nuclear physicist, well established, but became dangerous and paranoid early in his 40's. He was convinced that everyone in town was trying to steal his eyes. Placed in an asylum, committed suicide two weeks later," he read under his breath.

Foaly continued, voice shaking slightly. "Phillip Bates, 1903. Budding engineer, perfect track record, until one night he assaulted his brother and jumped out a third-floor window. His room was later found to have eyes and triangles painted in blood on the walls. Martha Keaton, 1834, hanged after she murdered her husband one night. Kept claiming that 'the eyes made her do it'. Alex Brown-"

"That's enough." Artemis hadn't budged from his pose, hadn't moved a finger, but his face had gone a few shades paler. He was breathing slowly and deeply through his nose.

"Artemis…" Foaly started. "I don't know how or why, but something in that town is tearing people to absolute shreds." He ran a shaking hand through his hair. "And Stanford was messing with it."

There was silence as Artemis digested the information. To Foaly, his downward gaze seemed to be pensive, but Artemis's calm expression belied his true thoughts.

So it was not a mere dream after all.

He was certain Bill was the creature driving people mad. It fit too well to not be true. A mental being, on the verge of death, made a last-ditch attempt to survive and was turned away. Artemis was doubly thankful now that he had refused the demon's deal.

It seemed strange that an apparition could cause so much mayhem, but Artemis could believe every bit of it. He still remembered the presence he felt, like a buzz under his skin, itching at his subconscious. It reeked of raw power.

Still. Now that I am aware of his tricks, I can defend myself from them.

"In that case, we must move ahead with the wipe as soon as possible," Artemis said as he looked up. "How soon will it be until a team is ready to move into the arctic?"

"I'm moving as fast as I can, but it's hard to get the equipment out under wraps," Foaly replied. "Give me a day."

"Excellent. I'll let the Pines know." Artemis dropped his fingers from the steeple they were in, but Foaly stopped him before he could close the chat.

"You should stop by," he said nonchalantly. "For the wipe."

Artemis stopped and looked up at the screen. "Whatever for? It's a routine procedure."

Foaly scuffed the floor with one hoof, a nervous tic Artemis recognized. "Still. Pays to be careful."

A buzz under his skin.

Artemis stilled. It was the strangest feeling, like there were eyes watching him, but of course that was ridiculous.

"I'll let you know," he responded a bit too quickly, and closed the link.

He closed his eyes, pressed them shut against the daylight slowly burning its way through his room. His skin was itching against his nightgown.

Unusual.

* * *

**A/N**

**I'M SORRY D:**  
**I genuinely didn't mean to be gone for so long, but near finals I had project after project and test after test (I love junior year). Even when I had a spare moment, I was so burnt that I couldn't get myself to write anything I felt satisfied with.**  
**But. That doesn't meant I deserved to leave you guys hanging for so long with no notice. I should have left an A/N to let you know what was happening, and for that I apologize.**  
**Good news is, I finally got back into a creative flow with winter break, and so you get an extra long chapter for your troubles! Thank you so much to everyone reading this story, and I will see you all next week!**


	11. Chapter 10

Dipper stared at Mabel's computer screen, trying to make out shapes past the smudges left from peeled-off stickers. Grunkle Ford had asked to video chat today, a rare treat as he usually said the larger transmission made the broadcast too noticeable. He said he had news about the fairies.

He had never said it was _bad_ news.

"So we have to lose our memories _again?_"

"It's the best way to go about this, unfortunately," Stanford sighed. "That is what the fairies have requested in return for wiping out Bill, and we don't have time to argue."

"But Grunkle Ford, this is the first adventure I've had in ages!" Dipper complained. "And besides, doesn't it creep you out, allowing strangers to erase bits of your mind?"

"Yeah!" Mabel chimed in. "My mind is a temple. A rainbow, sparkly candy temple!"

"I'm afraid it's the best option, creepy or not," Ford responded with a sympathetic frown. "Besides, their secrecy is important to them. I know it may seem strange, but I saw many a society in my travels that had very good reasons for remaining hidden. Sometimes it's better not to pry," he added gently.

"Grunkle Ford, we're explorers," Dipper said. "All we do is pry. You're not buying this, right, Mabel?"

The girl chewed her lip, thinking. "Do you think it would really work?" she asked.

"What?" Dipper turned to face his sister. "Mabel, you can't be considering this."

"Dipper, Grunkle Stan is in danger," she pleaded, doing those puppy-dog eyes that she knew he couldn't say no to. "I think it's weird too, but we have to help him. Besides, Grunkle Ford might be right. Maybe the fairies have a good reason for staying secret."

Dipper pursed his lips, but Mabel put her arm around his shoulder and squeezed. "When will they be here?"

"The day after tomorrow," Stanford responded. "I assume they need time to ready their equipment."

Dipper threw up his hands. "Why do you trust them, Grunkle Ford? What's to stop them from just… erasing all our memories, or going back on the deal completely?"

Stanford blinked, then furrowed his brow as he collected his thoughts. "I do not believe they would do that," he said. He spoke slowly, as if each word was carefully chosen. "Abduction is not the kindest action one can take, but they only did so because they believed their cover was compromised, and they returned you safe and sound. They were open to negotiation, even in a precarious situation. If I were to guess, they are not malevolent," he finished. "They are simply frightened, just like we are."

The boy lowered his head at the last sentence, and there was silence as he absorbed what Grunkle Ford had acknowledged.

_Just like we are._

"How's Grunkle Stan?" Mabel piped up hesitantly. She looked uncharacteristically nervous.

"He is…" Ford sighed. "He is sleeping, for now. I just put him to bed."

"Let me know if he needs a feel-better virtual hug!" she said, throwing her arms wide. Dipper could see the hint of strain showing through her smile.

Ford smiled, the same stress bleeding through his expression. "I will," he said. "Good night, kids."

The twins said their goodbyes in tandem, and the screen went blank.

Ford let out a ragged sigh as he ran his fingers through his hair. Putting Stan to bed had been a bit of an understatement. Forcibly tranquilizing him after he started speaking backwards with glowing eyes was more accurate.

He hated this. He hated everything about this. It was bad enough seeing his brother suffer and knowing there was nothing he could do to help, it was worse feeling dread claw at his gut every time he thought about how close the world was coming to destruction, seeing screaming mobs and crumbled buildings every time he closed his eyes.

But the worst of it was how terrified Stanford felt when he went near his brother.

Stanley was supposed to be his rock, his bastion of calm in a world of chaos. But now, Stanford couldn't bear to be near him, even when his brother was lucid. He felt sick with guilt, because it wasn't Stanley's fault, it was _his_ fault, and his brother was bearing his punishment, but that didn't stop the shake in his hand when he reached out to him. Stanley wasn't just Stanley anymore, he was Bill too, and the thought of that made Stanford want to vomit.

He stood up and started down the hallway that led to his brother's bedroom. Scared or not, Stanley needed tending to.

Stanford opened the door slowly. A crack of light eased into the room, illuminating his brother's sleeping body. For a moment, it was easy to pretend they were kids again. Stanford was sneaking back to bed after a late night working on some project, and Stanley would wake up and scold him at any minute.

But then Stanley turned over and Stanford snapped out of the memory in an instant.

His face was pallid and coated with a sheen of sweat. Despite the fact that Stanford had given him enough tranquilizer to down an elephant, Stanley was restless, and he mumbled and rolled in his sleep. Stanford noticed his eyes shifting under his lids, a sign of R.E.M. sleep. He hoped he wasn't dreaming anything too bad.

Stanford slowly padded over to the bed and looked down at the body beneath him.

"Come on, Stanley," he whispered under his breath. "Fight him."

This was never supposed to be Stanley's burden to bear. Stanford would never have wished this upon him in a million years. But he knew if anyone could battle that godforsaken demon, it was his brother.

He reached down and, forcing a wave of panic angrily down, clasped Stanley's hand in his. Perhaps it was his imagination, but Stanley's ragged breathing seemed to slow a bit with the action.

He only hoped the fight wasn't too much for him.


	12. Chapter 11

He doesn't actually see the fire itself at first.

He notices the smoke, thick and foul and choking, coursing through his lungs well before he opens his eyes.

He notices the pressing heat against his skin the moment his feet touch the floor.

It's only once he races out of the bedroom that he sees flames licking up the walls, eating away at anything they can. The corner of a painting catches fire in the edge of his sight. It is gone before he can blink.

Running is difficult in the ash. The oxygen has been replaced by pure white heat and black refuse, sticking to the sweat coating his skin, to the inside of his lungs, getting in his eyes, God they were sore. He can't see ten feet in front of him, vision wavy and blurred through tears and heat. His bare feet grow more scalded every step he takes.

He screams for his family, someone, anyone. He gets screams in response.

His father is standing at the end of the balcony, calmly surveying the blaze. His eyes glow in the flickering light.

"P'T ZVYYF MVY AOPZ," he comments, and he turns, and it's not the fire making his eyes glow. They are yellow with a cat's eye pupil.

AOPZ PZ TL HZRPUN FVB AV YLJVUZPKLY. P RUVD FVB JHU," the _thing _says, and he can feel bile rise in his throat, because that is not his father. It is wrong and he hates it.

His eyes scrape when he blinks. They burn.

"FVB JHU OLHY TL. OLHY TL. FVB KVU'A OHCL TBJO SVUNLY, P'T AYFPUN AV OLSW." The speech is rough and grating and seems to scald his ears upon reaching them, but he's not listening anymore. Every breath is filled with smoke and fire and his eyes burn and there's a roar of the flame that's drowning out anything else. He presses his eyelids tight but somehow the pain gets worse, a piercing headache, it's hard to focus, it's hard to think at all it's agony please stop stop _stop._

He cracks an eye and finds he is on the floor, flames creeping toward him, hungry. He is screaming. He can't stop.

And as the blaze overtakes the second floor, Artemis Fowl awakes, the last echoes of his scream still echoing around the cool, dark room.

Butler awoke to the sound of his charge screaming.

It wasn't the most pleasant thing to wake up to, and he would have dwelled on it more if he hadn't already ran down the hall to Artemis's door with his Sig Sauer drawn before any coherent thought could cross his mind.

He bashed the door with his shoulder blade, no time for doorknobs, and the wood gave way to...

Nothing. Artemis was panting, wide-eyed on the bed, but there was no one in the room but him.

He was quickly composing himself, though, and after a beat he looked up at Butler, panic evaporating and leaving behind a touch of embarrassment. Butler slowly lowered his handgun.

"What happened?" he spoke tersely, eyes still darting to every corner of the room.

The boy closed his eyes, took a few seconds to breathe, and opened them newly calm.

"Nothing, Butler," he said smoothly. "I apologize for waking you. I had a nightmare, that is all."

The words took a minute to sink in. Butler stared at his charge, first in confusion, then trying not to show his disbelief. Artemis did not _get _nightmares, and certainly not ones bad enough to wake up screaming in a cold sweat.

"Are you alright?" he asked, uncertain what to do but unwilling to leave.

Artemis scoffed. "Of course. It was only a dream, old friend," he said, and the manservant relaxed. Slightly. One was not paid to be relaxed, after all.

And yet.

Artemis was a skilled liar, but not a perfect one, and Butler had years of experience in reading his face. His eyes looked slightly glassy and unfocused, as though he had not quite woken up fully. As though he was halfway trapped in the nightmare.

"Are you _sure?_" he asked.

Artemis did not respond for a few seconds. He stared at the blanket before answering quietly, "I am fine, Butler. I promise."

The manservant eyed his charge, brow furrowed.

"Okay," he responded slowly, "but if something's wrong, let me know."

He turned and stepped out of the room, still uneasy about leaving his charge alone. His soldier's sense buzzed slightly at the base of his skull.

Artemis stared down the corridor where Butler had left. It was dark, of course, as a corridor during nighttime was wont to be. There were no flames lining the carpet, no screams echoing down its walls. Everything was normal.

And yet.

He laid back down and stared at the ceiling, breathing deeply and slowly to bring himself to a meditative state. But despite the ritual, he could not quite bring himself to close his eyes. There was no telling what he would see next.

Perhaps he would stay awake for a little while longer.

**Hello! I finished this late last night, so I figured I would publish it today rather than waiting another week for Sunday to roll around (and let's be honest there practically isn't a schedule on this thing anymore :')****  
****On a similar note, I'm going to *try* to push myself to upload every other Sunday instead of every Sunday like I have... not been doing. My hope is that quarantine, while not exactly fun, can push me to write a bit more, so I'll try not to fall off the wagon again. At least I'm not trying to write this story while swamped with homework anymore (have I mentioned junior year sucks? Because junior year sucks).****  
****See you guys next time!**


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